The Urges
by ilovebotdf111
Summary: When SpongeBob is suddenly overcome with an overwhelming urge to brutally murder Patrick, he sets in motion a chain of events that will horrify the residents of Bikini Bottom for generations to come.
1. Chapter 1

SpongeBob glared glassy-eyed at the sleeping body in front of him from afar, watching Patrick's stomach rise and fall gently with each breath. The sight began to make SpongeBob sleepy himself, but he shook his head violently, dispelling the fatigue from his brain. He inched closer, closer, closer, until he was practically on the bed with Patrick, looking down at him - their faces so close that his nose almost touched Patrick's face. Sweat began to bead on SpongeBob's forehead. He licked his lips and reached his sweaty hands out towards Patrick's neck, his arms quivering nervously. He grabbed hold of Patrick's throat gently, not enough to wake him, and remained in that position for a long while. SpongeBob let out a breath, trying to fight the urge to squeeze the life out of his best friend. Suddenly, Patrick let out a yawn and turned on his opposite side, forcing SpongeBob to retract his paws quickly so as not to awaken the big pink man. SpongeBob quietly inched back to the corner of the room near the bedroom doorway and remained there for a few more hours, observing Patrick's sleeping body. _I don't need it. I definitely don't need it._

SpongeBob was startled to realize that the sun was beginning to rise. He had been there all night, and he needed to retreat back to his house quickly so Patrick wouldn't catch him. He got up and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door softly behind him, and exited Patrick's rock. He ignored Gary's cries for food upon entering his house and sprinted to his room, locking the door and lowering the blinds before launching himself into his bed, covering his head with the sheets. A wave of shame enveloped his body. This has been going on for almost three months now, and he couldn't stop what had become a shameful habit. Every night he'd be overcome with an uncontrollable urge to sneak into Patrick's home under the cover of darkness, thinking of ways to snuff him. He fantasized about how much blood would pour out of his best friend's body. He wondered what sounds he'd make. He wondered how long he'd last. He desperately wanted to find out. He'd promised himself that he'd never go through with it, but there was no escaping it now.

 _ **I need it.**_

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"SpongeBob! Where the fuck were ya' yesterday?" Mr. Krabs exclaimed as SpongeBob meandered through the door of the Krusty Krab, lazily making his way to the kitchen. "I had to put Squidward on the grill, and it goes without sayin' that that was a fuckin' travesty. That guy is a piece of shit."

"Hey!" Squidward shouted from behind the register. "I'm right here Mr. Krabs. What gives you the right to talk that way about me? _SpongeBob_ should be the one getting read the riot act; he didn't show up!"

SpongeBob let out a sigh and walked through the door to the kitchen, ignoring the commotion. He could hear the argument rage on outside, but there were no customers to be bothered by it. The Krusty Krab had tanked in popularity ever since Plankton converted the Chum Bucket into a strip club, serving only alcohol and blowjobs with a side of genital warts. "Screw you Mr. Krabs!" Squidward's voice boomed from the dining room. "If I'm going to be treated like a second class citizen, then I quit!"

Mr. Krabs snorted in contempt. "Ya've been treated like a second class citizen by everybody since the day ya' were born! Ya're a disgusting, vile, talentless piece of-"

The doors opened suddenly, and the argument ended abruptly. SpongeBob could hear heavy footsteps make their way up to the register. "Good morning Krusty crew!" Patrick yelled deafeningly, which made SpongeBob gasp in shock. What the hell was he doing here? He hadn't come into the Krusty Krab in months. SpongeBob peered through the window into the dining room at Patrick who was staring blankly at the menu, drool pouring onto the ground from his slack jaw. Goosebumps towered like mountains on SpongeBob's skin as he observed Patrick's features, and he could feel his breath quicken and his heartbeat race. His skin looked especially soft this morning, and his plump belly looked like the perfect place to shove a sharp knife. SpongeBob could hardly contain himself.

After a few minutes of silence, Squidward exclaimed, "Well, are you gonna order something or are you just gonna stand there like a fucking ignoramus?"

Patrick laughed. "Well, actually Squidward, I was looking for Sponge-"

"Quit breathing my air!" Squidward interrupted suddenly. The room fell silent again for a moment.

Patrick cleared his throat. "Uh, well, like I was saying Squidward, I was hoping to talk to SpongeBob. I haven't seen him in a long time and I think he might be avoiding me for some reason. I just wanna know what's going on."

Squidward let out a sigh. "SpongeBob! You have a gentleman caller."

SpongeBob was doused in sweat, his mind was racing. He had been avoiding Patrick for the past three months because he's been fighting the urge to hurt him. He had kept interaction with him to an absolute minimum, only seeing him during his nighttime escapades when his discipline fails him completely. SpongeBob cleared his throat and replied in a shaky voice, "Actually Squidward I'm really busy right now. Could you tell Patrick I'll talk to him later?"

"Tell him yourself, barnacle-head. He's right here." Before SpongeBob even had time to reply, the door to the kitchen opened and Patrick walked in, his eyes beaming with joy from finally seeing his best friend who had disappeared for so long. SpongeBob nearly fainted.

"Heya SpongeBob, where've you been?" Patrick asked gleefully. "I've missed you, why don't we hang out or go jellyfishing anymore?"

SpongeBob's mind raced as he desperately tried to think of a reply, but he couldn't think straight with Patrick right in front of him. He suddenly became aware of a very strong odor of metal in his nostrils, and lights began to dance in front of his eyes. Tunnel vision trained his sight on Patrick, blurring out every other object in the room. SpongeBob couldn't help but observe his features. He felt an overwhelming sense of joy from seeing his friend - he suddenly wanted to hug him and play with him and hit him and hurt him and kill him. SpongeBob shook his head and snapped out of the trance. "Sorry I haven't been able to play with you recently Patrick," SpongeBob mumbled, looking around the room; looking at anything that wasn't Patrick. "Gary hasn't been feeling well. He hasn't been eating. I don't know."

"Oh come on SpongeBob, what kind of excuse is that?" SpongeBob could feel himself getting angry. For an absolute imbecile, Patrick could be aggravatingly perceptive.

"I don't know Patrick, things have come up." That was one way of putting it. SpongeBob truly didn't know what had caused his urges to start three months ago. Prior to that, everything was completely normal. They'd go jellyfishing every other day, play tag in their yards, go see movies - everything they used to do. But suddenly, one night as he settled into bed, he couldn't fall asleep. In fact, he couldn't even get comfortable in his bed. He went to his window and lifted up a blind, staring outside at Patrick's rock. That was when the urges began. That was when his mind was filled with despicable thoughts - _I wonder if I'll ever kill him. I wonder what it'd feel like to stab him. What would it feel like to strangle him? Would it be hard? Would he fight back? I wonder what he tastes like. Would it make my stomach hurt?_ That's how it began. He would stare out at Patrick's rock every evening, until one night he felt the need to be closer. That's when he decided it would be okay to go into his house at night - not to do anything, that was entirely out of the question. He just wanted to sit outside Patrick's room and listen to his breathing as he slept, fantasizing about what his breathing would sound like if a fork were to suddenly puncture his throat. Eventually, that too didn't cut it, and SpongeBob needed to get closer. After that, he began to spend his nights with Patrick in his room, lingering in the shadows and sweating anxiously.

"SpongeBob, I just wanna go back to the way things were," Patrick said and approached SpongeBob, putting his hand on his shoulder. He forced a pained smile, but the gesture had made him horribly uncomfortable. Patrick smiled. "There's a new Mermaid Man movie coming out tomorrow, do you wanna go see it? I just feel like we never see each other anymore."

SpongeBob licked his dry lips and quickly wiped the beads of sweat off of his brow. "I don't think so, I've got things going on." Patrick frowned and nodded his head, and he slowly walked to the door, obviously destroyed. "Besides," SpongeBob said as Patrick left. "I see you all the time."


	2. Chapter 2

SpongeBob could've sworn he heard crying emanating from Patrick's rock that night after he visited the Krusty Krab. He must admit that he felt bad, knowing how lonely Patrick is. He also felt mad, since he wouldn't be able to perform his nightly ritual if Patrick was up all night crying. SpongeBob laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes, ears tuned to his neighbors sobbing. _Go to sleep, Patrick_ \- he thought. _Just go to sleep, I can't take much more of this._

About an hour later the wailing had ceased. SpongeBob checked the clock - it was ten; early even by Patrick's standards. SpongeBob sat up in his bed and turned to face the window. It was time. He stood up and made his way to the door, brimming with purpose. Gary cried out desperately for food, but SpongeBob paid no attention as he grabbed his coat and slammed his door shut. He stood out on his driveway for a moment, checking to make sure that no one was around to see him perform his escapade. Satisfied, he quietly crossed over Squidward's lawn to his destination: Patrick's rock. He pressed his ear up against the abode and listened intently for any noise to see if Patrick was awake. He heard nothing. His thin lips curled into an eerie grin as he bent to carefully pry open the rock just enough for him to fit inside.

The house was dark. Very dark and cold. SpongeBob zipped up his coat and crossed his arms as he tiptoed over to Patrick's room. The door was slightly ajar, and Spongebob peered through the small crack over to the bed. The darkness made it hard for him to see, so he carefully pushed the door open and stepped inside. He stood by the doorway and glared over at the bed. He held his breath. Something wasn't right.

There were two lumps under the sheets, two bodies snuggled up together so close as to almost become one. SpongeBob frowned and beads of sweat formed on his face. The urge was still there - the fact that there was an unexpected guest didn't change anything, although it did complicate things substantially. However, he still needed to see Patrick, touch him, wrap his hands around his neck - he just needed to be more careful this time. He slowly walked over to Patrick's bedside and stood towering over him. Patrick was sleeping soundly - snoring even- content and completely unaware that he had another nocturnal visitor besides whomever was beside him in his bed. SpongeBob licked his dry lips and extended his shaking hands towards Patrick's neck as he did every night, but suddenly curiosity overcame him. Who exactly was the person sleeping with his best friend? He turned his head and looked at the lump beside Patrick. It was on its side, facing the opposite direction, and SpongeBob couldn't see its face. He retracted his hands and tiptoed over to the other side of the bed and glared down at the unexpected guest, his face pouring with sweat.

SpongeBob let out an almost inaudible gasp - it was Sandy. Sandy Cheeks, the only mammal in the ocean, sleeping with his best friend. SpongeBob couldn't help but crack a smug grin and had to fight to keep himself from laughing. How could Sandy stoop so low as to sleep with _that_ pathetic piece of shit? It was farcical. Was this why Sandy left him three months ago? Did she leave him to go get her rocks off with that big pink loser? Suddenly SpongeBob's amusement began to turn into rage. The smile on his face was replaced by a grimace, exposing his yellowed teeth. He clenched his fists and began to smell metal again, and he could see lights dancing in the pitch blackness. The room began to spin.

 _This fucking whore. She used me. She thinks she can just toss me away like a piece of fucking garbage, does she? And what does she dump me for? Patrick? Of all the fish in the sea, she goes for Patrick? What was wrong with me? Nothing. Nothing was wrong with me. She was the 'wrong' one, that bitch. I guess I should be laughing. Her standards really tanked. She had the best catch in the ocean and she dumped him for a piece of shit with no friends. Her life must be a travesty if she had to stoop to that level. What was wrong with_ _ **me**_ _? Nothing. Nothing at all._

 _She broke my heart. She broke my heart. She broke my fucking heart and now I'm gonna break her pretty little neck._

SpongeBob's hands shot out to Sandy's neck but stopped just short of their mark. He let out a shaky breath, fighting to regain his composure. _This isn't what I'm here for._ He retracted his hands and wiped the sweat off of his brow, and walked over to Patrick's side of the bed. His mind was racing - this night had been completely ruined now, and he'd get no satisfaction from this. He placed his sweaty hands lightly on Patrick's neck and squeezed lightly, careful not to wake the slumbering giant. He remained in that position for a long while, then finally forced himself to back away. He checked his watch. It was twelve. He had only been there for two hours, but he couldn't stand to be in that room anymore. He quietly retreated back into the living room and evacuated the rock before sprinting back to his house.

SpongeBob crawled into bed with his clothes still on. He stared at the ceiling, his eyes bloodshot and his heart racing. He tried to take deep breaths in order to control his heart rate, but it was no use. He felt like he was going to faint, and he couldn't catch his breath. Tunnel vision began to set in, and the smell of metal returned. "This night was a colossal failure," he thought, crushed. "The urge… It's still there. It's still there. It's stronger. I couldn't satisfy it tonight. I couldn't."

He grabbed his pillow and pressed it over his face, screaming into it. Gary was startled awake, but then took the opportunity to beg for food. SpongeBob ripped the pillow from his face and screamed "Shut the fuck up!" at Gary, spraying saliva at his pet. Gary hissed and ran out of the bedroom.

The room began to spin. The metallic smell stuck in SpongeBob's nostrils was so strong now that it almost smelled like smoke from a bonfire. Tears began to well in his eyes and he began to sob as the room spun around him and the lights danced in front of him mockingly. He thought about Sandy, how she left him and how he was broken. He thought about Patrick and how he stole her from him. Painful thoughts swirled around in the maelstrom of his mind until he couldn't take it any longer. He cried out into the night, screaming until his vocal chords bled and until his lungs began to hurt. He knew there was only one way things could get better; only one way to put an end to the urges.

 _I need to do it. I need to kill Patrick._


End file.
